Same Old Story, but a Different Way

WITH A CHARACTER DESCRIPTION
In a lot of ways, Charis was just like any other twenty-something. She had dreams and memories and a winning smile. In a few important ways, however, Charis was most unlike the other girls. For example, Charis was dead.

WITH A SPECIFIC MOMENT IN TIME
All I could hear was the steady breathing of the stranger and the relentless ticking of the clock. Squinting up at it, I could make out that it was just after midnight. My hands pressed against the window frame, pushing hard as I attempted to wriggle myself free, but it was no use. Intangibility is a power one should practice before attempting to enter a stranger's room undetected.

WITH A PRECURSOR
I am not a bad person. I am not selfish or unfeeling, and I do not like to lie. I only did what I had to do to survive. But "survive" is not the right word. I did what I had to do to move on.

WITH AN OMINOUS NOTE
I brought two shaking fingers up to my neck, sweating as I searched for the pulse. All I needed was to feel the familiar pump of blood in my veins, and I would know this was all a dream. Perhaps my pulse was simply weak. I put a hand over my chest and breathed slowly. I was nervous. When a person feels anxiety, the heart beats at an abnormally high rate. Mine did not. Mine was not beating at all.

BY PLANTING A QUESTION IN THE READER'S MIND
Dead men tell no tales. Unless they aren't as dead as they would like to be. Sometimes the dead are restless. As for me, I tell plenty of tales. Some of them are even true.